


Every Single Moment

by marleymars



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Horniness, M/M, Pining, Professors, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 20:34:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17988086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marleymars/pseuds/marleymars
Summary: Ignis can't contain his feelings for the gorgeous new faculty member. Herein are the snapshots of their lives as they fall for one another.A college AU with a twist and the twist is that they're both sexy college professors.





	Every Single Moment

**Author's Note:**

> hey it's cha'girl, Marley, back with more promnis smut. my groove is slowly but surely returning to me.

There was a figure jogging solitary loops on the university athletic track. Ignis Scientia, professor of Lucian history and part-time cooking class instructor, watched the lone morning jogger with passing interest. Were they a student, arrived early for the autumn semester? The dormitories shouldn't have been ready for another week at least.

For his part, Ignis was on campus early to begin preparing lessons and reorganize his office. The latter was the less daunting task--thankfully, he had not left a messy office behind at the end of last term.

Being that he lived on campus, he had chosen to walk the mile to reach his destination rather than drive. He'd taken a shortcut on the path around the athletic fields, and now he realized he was on track to pass right by the jogger. He was prepared to give a brief nod of greeting and be on his way. Instead, as they drew nearer to one another, the jogger slowed down and came to a stop. 

Feeling obliged to do the same, Ignis paused and nodded toward him--a young man as it turned out. Ignis watched as the jogger stepped off the track, crossed the patch of grass that separated them, then held out his hand in greeting.

“Hi,” he said brightly, breathlessly. “I'm Prompto Argentum. Are you a professor here, too?”

Ignis was caught off guard, for several reasons. The name sounded familiar, for one, and for two, Prompto Argentum was...well, gorgeous. He was shorter than Ignis, but leanly built. Lithe was the word, with strong shoulders and finely muscled runner's legs. Blue-violet eyes twinkled up at him, as if Prompto knew the punchline to a joke that Ignis wasn't in on. His sunshine blond hair was damp with sweat--in fact, his skin glistened in the early morning light, like dew on the field around them.

“Good morning,” Ignis replied after an awkward beat. He took the proffered hand and gave it a firm shake. The other man's grip was strong but warm, welcoming. “I...yes. I teach history. Ignis Scientia.”

Prompto had already been smiling, but now he beamed. As if Ignis’ name was the best thing he'd ever heard of. 

“It's really nice to meet you,” he said. He gave Ignis’ hand a friendly squeeze before letting go and stepping back. He placed his hands on his hips and began lifting his legs, one then the other, flexing them to keep his muscles warm.

“You as well,” Ignis replied somehow, mouth gone dry. “Did you say you were also a professor?” Ignis thought he must be mistaken somehow. Prompto would be a new hire for the athletics division, a coach or trainer for the student athletes.

“Yup!” Prompto replied, his smile turning almost bashful. “I'll be teaching a photography class this semester. I'm actually kinda nervous about it.”

He gave a fluttery little laugh at that, but Ignis hardly noticed. The name finally clicked in his head and he nearly dropped the can on Ebony he'd been holding.

“You're not…the Prompto Argentum who won the Aurora Prize last year, are you?”

A flush spread over the young man's freckled face, and Ignis’ heart skipped a beat.

“The very same,” he said, and there was something prideful and astonished in his expression. As though he still couldn't believe he'd won the highest journalistic award in the country, an impressive feat for anyone. 

“I was invited to teach a course on photography and artistic theories this year, but man, I dunno what I was thinking, saying yes,” he laughed again. 

Ignis’ mind finally caught back up to the moment. He saw the genuine nervousness in the young man's eyes and felt a pang of sympathy. 

“Teaching for the first time can be nerve-wracking,” he said, remembering his days as a student lecturer, having to stand in front of his peers and command their attention. Prompto wouldn't have the benefit of those months of observed and guided training. 

“I'm sure it'll be okay,” Prompto said. “Things like this always seem daunting, but then once you do them you think, ‘man, what was I so worried about?’”

“That is a very wise outlook,” Ignis said, and Prompto gave him that shy smile again. He then found himself blurting, “If you like, I can give you some pointers. Answer any questions you have.”

Prompto look surprised, then he brightened. “Really? I mean, you don't have to.”

“But I want to,” Ignis said, and it was true. 

“Well...okay! That'd be so great!” Prompto gave the distinct impression then of an excitable puppy doing his very best to contain himself, fairly wiggling with suppressed glee.

“My office is in Ephram Hall, second floor, room ten. If you'd like to meet today, that is. I'll be there all morning,” Ignis said, suppressing his own eagerness with professional calm.

“Cool, cool,” Prompto said, punching one hand into the palm of the other in an energetic gesture. “I'll, ah, hit the showers and come right over. Is that okay?”

“Certainly,” Ignis said, doing his best not to picture this man in the shower and mostly succeeding.

“Great! Thank you! I'll see you in like, half an hour then!” And with that, Prompto took off jogging toward the nearby athletics building where the locker rooms and showers were. Ignis waved after him, and tried to ignore the sense of yearning that had taken root in his chest.

 

X

 

“All right, I think that's all I've got time for. You guys can head out, but remember; I need five photos from each of you that represent the motion-blur technique by next Friday! Have a good weekend!”

Ignis sat at the back of the computer lab where Prompto's class had been gathered. Students were getting to their feet, packing their things away and chattering amongst themselves. A few stopped to talk to their instructor on the way out, and Ignis watched as Prompto gave each one of them his full attention in turn. 

He was dressed casually, wearing a t-shirt and jeans with an obviously well-loved bomber jacket. The students called him by his first name and traded easy banter with him. Ignis had come in at the tale end of a story about Prompto having to run from a herd of angry garula. Every eye in the room had followed his energetic retelling with rapt attention, including Ignis’. 

It took nearly ten minutes for the room to empty, leaving the two of them alone. Prompto smiled when he spotted Ignis sitting in the seat nearest the door and waved him over.

“Hey Iggy!” he said as Ignis rose and moved to join him by the projector. “Were you watching the whole class?”

“Just the last fifteen minutes or so,” Ignis said, though he omitted that he wished he'd gotten there sooner. “You're doing very well. I've never seen a room full of eighteen year-olds so focused.”

Prompto chuckled as he stuffed a binder haphazardly into the backpack he carried around campus. His camera bag was immaculate, but the backpack looked thoroughly beaten. 

“They're great kids,” he said with obvious fondness. 

“They admire you,” Ignis said, folding his arms and leaning a hip on the nearest desk. “And here you were terrified that they would, how did you put it? ‘Smell your fear and eat you alive?’”

Prompto stuck his tongue out at Ignis. “Mean.”

“So ungrateful,” Ignis teased, feigning hurt. “You'd be dead if it weren't for me.”

“That's true,” Prompto said, and there was a happy flush to his cheeks that made Ignis’ heart beat faster. “I've been meaning to thank you for helping me out.”

“Prompto, you thanked me at least a thousand times,” Ignis pointed out.

“Yeah, but,” Prompto gave him a light punch on the bicep that send chills racing over Ignis’ skin. “I mean  _ properly _ thank you. Like, I dunno, with flowers, or a basket of muffins.”

The thought of receiving flowers from Prompto stoked a hot, little coal in the center of Ignis’ chest. 

“Well, I am fond of coffee, you know,” he managed to say. 

Prompto scoffed, but then he hefted his backpack on and slung his camera bag over his shoulder. “Say, Iggy, wanna grab a cup of coffee with me? My treat.” 

Ignis wanted to grab that grinning face and swallow up that sweet smile with his own lips. 

“I'd be honored to accompany you,” he said. Prompto looked very pleased with himself as he reached up and gave Ignis’ tie a little tug. 

“Let's go then, professor.”

 

X

 

“Hand me that knife, Prompto.”

“This one?” 

“Yes.”

Prompto watched with knitted brows as Ignis took the knife and began delicately dicing the peeled cloves of garlic. He was more attentive than Ignis’ cooking students, most of whom were college kids looking for a decent meal, or couples on awkward first dates. Most of the attendees of Ignis’ cooking classes weren't entirely serious about learning to cook, but they usually seemed to enjoy themselves. That was the most important thing, Ignis told himself. If they learned nothing, then at least he was still being paid for the effort. 

So, Ignis appreciated Prompto's keen attention. When he had mentioned that he taught a nighttime cooking class, Prompto had been eager to tag along. He was proving to be both an earnest assistant and an attentive student all at once. The large teaching kitchen in the campus learning annex had impressed him, with its industrial refrigerator, rows of stoves, sinks, and prep stations. 

_ It's like the set of one of those cooking competition shows,  _ he'd said.  _ You could totally be a celebrity chef with a setup like this! _

“Man, I dunno how you do it,” Prompto sighed. At Ignis’ questioning look he grinned and leaned his elbows on the prep station. “You dice and chop everything so neatly, without cutting your fingers off. You're like a wizard.”

Ignis’ lips twitched. “All it takes is a bit of practice.”

“And wizardly magic,” Prompto said. He deftly plucked a piece of chopped bell pepper from a bowl and popped it into his mouth before Ignis could stop him.

“I told you,” Ignis said, gesturing with the knife, “no sampling.”

“But I'm  _ starving _ .”

“You're being dramatic.” Ignis turned from his station and opened a cabinet above the row of sinks. He returned to Prompto and held out a shiny, red apple. “This should tide you over, though.”

Prompto placed a hand over his heart and feigned wiping away a tear. “My hero.” He accepted the apple and crunched into it with a reverent expression.

“Has anyone ever told you that you're utterly ridiculous?” Ignis asked him.

“Occasionally,” Prompto admitted, grinning. “But you like me this way, right?”

Ignis cleared his throat, but was saved from having to answer by a startled cry from the row of stoves. One of his students had started a grease fire and was panicking. Beside him, Prompto gasped. 

“It's all right,” Ignis called out, “everyone stay calm.” From the cabinets he retrieved a bag of flour and strode across the room to douse the flames. There followed a round of applause from his students, which Ignis accepted with a modest bow. 

“Wow, dude,” Prompto said as Ignis rejoined him. “You were...so chill. If that'd been me I'd have run out the door crying and pulled the fire alarm.” 

“Well, now you know what to do next time you're in the vicinity of a kitchen fire,” Ignis said, warmth in his chest.

“Right,” Prompto grinned. “I don't think I even own a bag of flour.”

“That's because you're a barbarian,” Ignis told him. 

Prompto laughed, and took another bite of his apple. 

 

X

 

_ Can I ask you a favor, Iggy? _

Prompto had come to him just the previous day, utterly frazzled, the question blurting out of him. The frantic look in his eyes had Ignis agreeing to help him before knowing what he was agreeing  _ to _ .

As it turned out, what Prompto needed was an assistant. A helping hand for a job that weekend.

“They're friends of mine,” Prompto explained. “I haven't done a wedding shoot in years, but I told them I'd do this like a year ago and then I started this teaching thing and it kinda slipped my mind.  I'm-I'm totally unprepared, I--”

“Prompto, relax,” Ignis had said. “I'll help. Whatever you need.”

Now they were at a wedding, together. The venue was an elegant, historic hotel, hosting both the wedding itself and the reception in the chapel and the ballroom respectively. Prompto was wearing a suit and tie, his hair combed neatly, so different from his usual, casual attire. He looked so beautiful that Ignis could hardly breathe at the sight of him.

Together, they set up Prompto's equipment. Ignis had had no idea that a photo shoot needed anything more than a camera. There were umbrella lights and at least a dozen different types of lenses, a backdrop for staged photos, and Prompto's laptop. Ignis’ job was to help him move equipment, to angle lights at Prompto’s direction, and to keep batteries charged and ready. 

It was fascinating, watching him work. Even before the wedding started Prompto had taken at least a hundred pictures as the guests filed in. Not just pictures of the guests themselves, but of the venue, the architecture, the massive glass chandelier in the lobby and the shimmering indoor pool inside a glass walled room. 

Prompto's focus was singular. He was an artist at work, in his element. Ignis had seen so many of his photos and he’d had no idea how much work went into them. Prompto worked mainly in wildlife and nature photography, but he'd also been hired by magazines and newspapers to shoot various events. He'd been to countless protests, concerts, parades, and everything in between, and his work was invariably...astounding. 

The wedding was no different. During the ceremony, Ignis sat at the back of the room as Prompto moved around, unobtrusive. Ignis had seen him in motion plenty of times and he would normally describe Prompto as charmingly clumsy. The man was athletic, but uncoordinated--except for when he had a camera in his hand. As he maneuvered about the rows of chairs, quietly snapping pictures of the ceremony, Prompto was as nimble as a cat.

Later, Ignis would realize that he could barely recall most of the wedding itself. As the bridge and groom said their vows, Ignis simply couldn't wrest his gaze from Prompto. Not that he tried terribly hard to focus on anything else. 

At the reception, he managed to catch Prompto's arm as the young man breezed past him. 

“Eat something,” he said, pressing a plate of hors d'oeuvres into his friend's hand. 

For a moment Prompto looked almost confused. “Huh? Oh, I can't, I have--”

“You have to eat,” Ignis told him. “You've been on your feet for hours.”

Prompto shook his head with a rueful grin, but he took the plate of food. “Thanks, Iggy. I dunno what I'd have done without you today.”

“You're very welcome,” Ignis said, tone sincere. For a moment, they stood there, gazes unwavering. Music wafted gently through the reception hall. In the adjacent ballroom, couples were still dancing. 

Ignis almost asked Prompto if he would like to dance. The words were on the tip of his tongue when a woman in a bridesmaid's dress appeared out of thin air, looking frantic. 

“Prompto, we need you!” she chirped urgently, laying a hand on his arm. “It's time for portraits.”

“Be right there,” he said. 

The young woman retreated and Prompto sighed. He tossed Ignis a smile raised the plate of food in a toasting gesture, then disappeared into the crowd. Had there been something behind that smile? The ghost of...of what? 

_ Wishful thinking, perhaps.  _ Prompto was his friend, a dear friend despite only knowing one another a short time. And they were colleagues. It would be...inappropriate to want for more. To want  _ him. _

Perhaps if he kept telling himself that, he might start to believe it.

 

X

 

“You should just tell him how you feel.”

Ignis started when Noct spoke. He hadn't even noticed his friend entering his office. Noctis Caelum was the youngest director of the university Student Affairs Committee in school history, and Ignis’ oldest friend. At the moment, Noct was leaning over Ignis’ desk, one eyebrow cocked. The young trustee looked as disheveled as ever, even in a suit, but today he also looked exasperated.

“To whom are you referring?” Ignis asked, though he knew exactly what Noct was talking about.

From Ignis’ office window, he had a clear view of the athletic field. Of the track where Prompto jogged early in the mornings. Occasionally, he also went jogging in the afternoons, if he happened to have a late start and missed his morning run.

Today was such a day. And Ignis had been watching him, watching his long strides. Even at this distance, the sight of him made Ignis’ heart ache. 

“You know what I'm talking about,” Noct said with a roll of his eyes. He dropped into one of the chairs on the other side of Ignis’ desk, sagging into the cushion as if he might fall right to sleep. 

“Is there something I can help you with, Director Caelum?” Ignis asked, trying not to smile at the offended look Noct shot him.

“Jeez, don't talk like that. You make me sound like one of those old trustee geezers,” Noct grumbled. 

“Give it time,” Ignis said, shuffling the papers he'd been grading. His gaze wandered back to the window. Prompto was at the far end of the track, a distant stick figure in the fading sunlight.

Fingers snapped, inches from his face. Ignis glowered as Noct grinned at him, unrepentant.

“You  _ love _ him,” Noct said in a teasing voice.

“Noctis…,” Ignis warned.

“Ignis and Prompto, sitting in a tree--”

“Noct!” Ignis growled, heart hammering. His office door was open and there were students still working in the building. The last thing he wanted was to fuel campus gossip. “Are you twenty-seven, or twelve?”

Noct shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “You're being stupid about this, man. Gladio agrees with me.”

Ignis scoffed. “It wouldn't be appropriate. We work together.”

“Whatever,” Noct said. “You and your hormones disgust me. You're not capable of rational thought when you're all…,” he wiggled his fingers at Ignis with a sour look, “horny.”

“Noct, please,” Ignis sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose. 

“I'm just saying, dude. It's good to be ace,” Noct said. “You wanna get something to eat? I want fries.”

“Unfortunately, I'm busy at the moment,” Ignis said. He really did need to finish reading through these papers. Prompto had distracted him, as Prompto was inadvertently wont to do.

“Fine, nerd,” Noct said. He looked genuinely put out, like a puppy left on its lonesome. 

A long sighed dragged out of Ignis and he set the papers aside. Outside, the track was empty. 

“All right,” he said. “I could use some fresh air. Let's go.”

 

x

 

_ Class is cancelled today. Everyone who emails me their essays before midnight gets an extra five points added to their grade. I’ll see you all next week. _

_ -Professor Scientia _

Ignis hadn’t been this sick in years. Every joint in his body ached and a fever itched beneath his skin, leaving him shivering and miserable. To top it all off, his head was stuffed tight and his nose wouldn’t stop running. He was a disgusting mass of mucus and flannel, wrapped in his bathrobe as he sagged across his couch. Had daytime television always been so gods-awful? He couldn’t remember. Judge Judy served as decent a backdrop as any for his fevered dozing. Really, he ought to have stayed in bed, but it somehow felt more productive to be sick in his living room instead.

A buzzer sounded, rousing him from a dream where he’d been running from a giant gavel intent on crushing him. It took him a moment to realize that it was the door. Who would come calling when he was in such a state? Noctis and Gladio had sent him their well-wishes. Perhaps it was Miss Fleuret, taking pity on him. He’d rather she stayed away, lest he spread the infection. 

Wincing, he struggled to his feet and went to the intercom panel. 

“Who is it?” he asked as he pressed the speaker button. 

“It’s Prompto! I brought soup!” 

For a moment, Ignis just stared at the intercom, as if he expected Prompto to come crawling out of it. Then, reluctantly, he pressed the button again.

“I’m sick, Prompto.”

“Yeah, I know that dude. Thus, the soup. Let me in!” 

Ignis should have argued. He should have sent Prompto away, but he was weak. It was the virus, muddying his judgement. The simple truth was that Ignis wanted to see Prompto, even though at the moment he was a snot-nosed biohazard unfit to call himself a member of society. So he pressed the door button and went to unlock the door to his flat. 

Moments later Prompto was there, cradling a paper bag in one arm and holding a plastic shopping bag in the other. His bomber jacket was damp. So was his hair, but he hardly seemed to notice. Ignis hadn’t even realized it was raining outside. 

“Man, you look gross,” Prompto said as he set the bags down in the kitchen. “Er, I mean that in the nicest way possible. I just...didn’t think it was possible for you to look so…”

“Gross?” Ignis suggested, eyeing the bags as Prompto shed his coat and hung it on the back of a chair.

Sheepish, Prompto grinned. “It’s okay to look gross when you’re sick. I guarantee you look better than me when I get a cold. Here.”

Talking fast, he opened the paper bag and pulled out a large paper cup, nearly gallon-sized, capped in plastic. Then he opened the plastic bag and pulled out a package of oyster crackers, a bottle of ginger ale, and a small box of Theraflu. 

“I’m no doctor,” he explained, “But this is my patented ‘get well soon’ survival pack. The soup’s from Takka’s Diner, this place downtown. He makes a dope chili, too. It’ll punch the cold right out of your head.”

“Sounds pleasant,” Ignis said dryly. Prompto grinned at him and began opening cabinets until he found the bowls.

“Sit,” Prompto ordered. Ignis did as he was told and was shortly presented with a bowl of soup, an open bag of crackers, and a steaming mug of fever-reducing tea. A spoon was pressed into his hand but for a moment he did nothing. 

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.

“I know,” Prompto replied, sitting opposite him at the kitchen table. “I wanted to. I mean, Noct says you never cancel class, so I figured you must be absolutely miserable.” 

In lieu of answering, Ignis spooned up some of the soup and brought it to his mouth. He could barely taste it, but it was warm and it eased the ache in his sinuses. They sat in companionable silence as he slowly ate and sipped his tea. When the bowl was empty he felt muzzy-headed, still hot and achy but ready to lie down and sleep again. Peacefully this time. Maybe. 

“Nyquil,” Prompto said abruptly, and he was sliding a little plastic medicine cup across the table like it was a shot glass. Ignis couldn’t help but grin. He downed the unpleasant medicine and only offered a mild protest as Prompto helped him stand and trailed him down the hall to his bedroom. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, unless you catch what I’ve got.”

Prompto watched him from the door as he crawled into bed. “I’ll just clean up then,” he said. “Then I’ll let myself out.”

“All right,” Ignis murmured, closing his eyes as he pulled the blankets up around himself. “Thank you, Prompto. Truly. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“No problemo, Igster,” he heard Prompto say, but he was already drifting off to sleep. “Sleep tight.”

Hours later Ignis awoke. His apartment was dark and Prompto was gone. His head felt lighter, clearer, and he realized his fever had broken. Relieved, he got up to seek out some leftover soup. 

Pausing in his living room, he realized that the place was spotless. Ignis was traditionally an organized individual, but he’d left a bit of a mess behind as he’d lain in the grips of his illness. There’d been scattered tissues around the coffee table, blankets and pillows strewn about. He was certain he’d also left the television on. 

All of it was sorted, now. Blankets were folded neatly, pillows were set to rights, and the floor was clean. The kitchen was similarly tidied up. There was a note on the refrigerator, which Ignis paused to read once he had retrieved the container of soup. 

_ You should let yourself be taken care of more often. Call me if you need me. _

_ xo Prompto _

 

X

 

Snow had begun to fall outside. Ignis hadn't noticed at first, not until one of his students had burst into his office at the last minute to turn in her research notes. A light dusting of snow had been melting on her shoulders as she'd lingered, giving him hopeful looks that he ignored. 

Ignis had bade her a good weekend and packed up his messenger bag. It was late and he had forgotten to eat lunch, too preoccupied with planning midterms to keep an eye on the time. A gnawing ache had taken up residence in his stomach, and now that he’d noticed it he knew he wouldn’t be able to focus on work. 

He was outside, halfway across the quadrangle when a glowing light from above caught his eye. A window in the arts building. Prompto's computer lab, he was sure of it. Was he working late with a student? Sometimes he did that, stayed to offer extra help to anyone struggling putting together their portfolio or editing a project. It was awfully late for that, though. Even for Prompto.

For all of his initial fears, Prompto was proving to be an excellent teacher. He cared about his students, cared deeply, wanted them to succeed, to harness their talents.

Of their own volition, Ignis’ legs carried him toward the arts building. A short flight of stairs later and he found himself in the door of the computer lab. At first, he didn't see Prompto. The lights were only on over half of the room, leaving the other side in shadow. Then he spotted the man sitting on the far window sill, gazing out into the night. Prompto was perfectly still, leaning against the frame, not even kicking his leg or wiggling his foot.

Something was wrong. Prompto was  _ never  _ completely motionless. There was always an energy thrumming beneath the surface, threatening to burst free. Even when he was working, wholly absorbed with editing something on his computer or fussing with his cameras, there were always tapping fingers or bouncing knees. Ignis found this restlessness endearing.

Seeing him like he was now, unmoving, left Ignis unsettled. 

“Prompto?” he called out softly. 

Prompto didn’t startle, but he did move, slowly turning his head in the dimly lit room. 

“Oh,” he said. “Hey, Iggy. What’re you doing here so late?” His voice was steady, calm, but there was an off note to it. 

“I was working,” Ignis said, stepping into the room. “Why are you here? Are you all right?” 

“I’m okay,” Prompto said, but he turned his face away, hiding his expression. 

Ignis crossed the room, set his bag down on the floor by the window sill and sat beside his friend. This close, he could see that Prompto’s eyes were red. Bloodshot, as if from stress. Or...or as if he had been trying not to cry.

“Prompto--,” he began.

“It’s okay, seriously,” Prompto said, and now he did start to fidget, picking at fingernails. Fingernails that, Ignis noted, had been chewed ragged. “It’s just...my parents were supposed to come visit me this weekend. I was gonna show them around campus, but--,” he shrugged, “they cancelled. Last minute. Said they’ve both gotta work.”

There was silence for several beats. “I’m sorry,” Ignis said. 

Prompto abruptly stood and paced several steps away. “They always--they  _ always  _ do this.” He spun back around, pointed a finger at Ignis. “You know they missed my high school graduation? They walked in the doors just after everyone threw their hats in the air, but they didn’t see me walk across the stage to get my diploma. Then they missed my first gallery show, my Aurora ceremony. I mean, I practically raised myself, too, because they were always  _ working _ . I-I dunno why I still get my hopes up.” 

His voice cracked toward the end as he ran a hand through his hair. Ignis stood and Prompto glanced away again, trying to wipe surreptitiously at his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Ignis said again, knowing that the words were inadequate. Without thinking about it, he opened his arms, an invitation for comfort, and Prompto came to him. No hesitation--he just stepped into the circle of Ignis’ arms and embraced him tightly. Ignis smoothed a hand against the back of Prompto’s neck and Prompto tucked his face into Ignis’ shoulder, hands fisting in the back of his shirt. There was a sniffle, and Ignis rubbed a hand in a circle on Prompto’s lower back. He tried to ignore how right it felt to hold Prompto in his arms, resisted the urge to press his lips into that soft, yellow hair. 

“I always try to forgive them,” Prompto said thickly. “They promise to make it up to me, every time. And they did, once or twice. When I was little. But they just keep  _ doing  _ this.” 

He pulled back, resting hands on Ignis’ biceps, gazing up at him with wet eyes. There was heartbreak written all over his face, the expression of a child who’d been let down one too many times by his parents. Parents that he still loved, in spite of everything. 

“I’m tired of being an afterthought to them, y’know,” Prompto said, shrugging, expression closing off. “I was all psyched for them to visit. I thought they’d finally be impressed, y’know.  _ Me _ , teaching at the best school in the city. But I guess if the Aurora Prize didn’t do it for them, then nothing will.” There was an unfamiliar bitterness in his voice. It didn’t suit him, and it made something in Ignis’ chest go tight.

“Well,” Ignis said, an idea coming to him. “Why don’t I make you dinner tonight?”

Prompto started to shake his head. “You don’t have to--”

“I insist,” Ignis said, taking his hand, squeezing it. “Please. I’d hate for you to be alone when you’re upset. Let me keep you company tonight.” 

Slowly, Prompto smiled up at him, a weary expression. “All right,” he murmured. “Thanks, Iggy. You’re...you’re, like, the coolest.”

Ignis laughed and Prompto’s smiled widened into something lovely. 

 

X

 

Dinner went late. Ignis hadn’t left his office until nearly nine o’clock and they didn’t reach his flat until after ten. By the time he was finished cooking, it was midnight. 

Not that he minded. Not when it was for Prompto, who cheered up considerably the moment they stepped outside into the snow. He’d scooped up a handful of the soft powder and thrown it into the air, letting it spray down over them both. “Oops,” he’d said, unapologetic as Ignis pulled his glasses off to clean them. 

He sat on the counter in Ignis’ kitchen, watching Ignis set out ingredients. “So, what’re you making?”

“Spiced salmon on a bed of farro and roasted peppers,” Ignis replied. 

“Wow,” Prompto said, blinking at him. “Do you...always cook like that? Even when it’s just you?”

“Usually,” Ignis told him. 

“Oooh,” Prompto said, kicking his feet. “So you’re  _ not  _ just a show-off. I thought you were just trying to impress your cooking classes with all that plating and presentation stuff.”

“Who says I wasn’t?” Ignis told him, tapping Prompto on the leg. He moved aside, allowing Ignis to open the drawer and retrieve his filleting knife. 

“Well...it is impressive, y’know? I feel like Gordon Ramsay when I manage not to burn rice. But you’re, like, a legit chef,” Prompto said. 

“Cooking is a skill. It takes practice and patience. I...enjoy it, because I enjoy meticulous tasks. Working with my hands,” Ignis explained. 

“You mean you’re anal retentive?” Prompto teased.

“Rather uncalled for,” Ignis said with a sniff.

“Hey, you’re the one who steams and presses all of his outfits,” Prompto said with a shrug and a smirk. “I’m just saying.” 

Was this flirting, Ignis wondered? Prompto was cheeky like this with everyone. Shy at first, but when he warmed up to somebody he was all impertinence and energy. There were other things, though. Small touches on Ignis’ hands, his arms, shoulders. Warmth behind the teasing looks. Wishful thinking, Ignis reminded himself. Gods, he wanted to do as Noct said. To tell Prompto how he felt, as if it were that easy.

Could it be? That easy? That simple? To tell Prompto how he felt without making things...uncomfortable, for the both of them?

They ate in the kitchen. Prompto lavished Ignis with praise, as he always did when Ignis fed him. “You’ll inflate my ego,” Ignis told him. 

“I’m telling you man, you missed your true calling. You could be a five-star chef, my dude,” Prompto said. Then he licked his fork, flashes of pink showing through the tines. 

Ignis swallowed, hard. He felt Prompto’s knee pressing into his thigh beneath the kitchen island, a warm weight. The scent of Prompto’s shampoo lingered in his nose, the heat from his body had seeped into Ignis’ bones. Prompto had become so important to him in such a short time, he was such a bright spot in Ignis’ life. And he was sitting just inches away, smiling in spite of how he’d been hurt earlier that night. Smiling, because of Ignis. 

He wouldn’t take no for an answer when he offered to help Ignis clean up. They washed the dishes side by side. Prompto was ginger with the dinnerware. Their fingers brushed every time Ignis handed him something to dry and it felt...deliberate. There was no way to hide the gooseflesh that rose on his arms, but he hoped that Prompto wouldn’t notice. That he wouldn’t realize that the cause was his touch. 

“Wine?” Ignis offered when they were finished. 

“I dunno,” Prompto said as he dried his hands on a dishtowel. “It’s nearly two in the morning. I should probably get out of your hair.”

Ignis put a hand on Prompto’s back. “Stay,” he murmured. “I like having you around.”

Prompto turned toward him, gaze lifting, blue-violet eyes vivid in the bright kitchen lights. “Yeah?” he asked. 

“Of course,” Ignis told him. His hand was still on Prompto’s back, wrapped around him, as if he were holding Prompto close. An unintentional position, but he couldn’t bring himself to step back. Prompto was a solid heat against him--no, leaning  _ into  _ him, his head tilted back, one hand sliding slowly up Ignis’ chest. 

This...Ignis wasn’t imagining  _ this _ . He swallowed, hard. Shifted his palm into the small of Prompto’s back, hooked his other arm around Prompto’s shoulders, behind his neck, anchoring them together. Ignis bent his head and their lips met, slowly at first, searing. A hand curled into Ignis’ shirt collar, Prompto pushing up on his toes to deepen the kiss.  _ Demanding  _ that Ignis deepen the kiss. 

Fire unfurled in Ignis’ chest, in his bones as Prompto's lips parted. His tongue was like velvet, making Ignis groan as it stroked against his bottom lip. A gasp tore loose from him as Prompto hiked a leg up against his outer thigh to grind their hips together. 

“Oh gods,” Ignis growled, dipping his face into Prompto's neck, nosing at the silky skin of his throat. His mouth found the pulse point there, throbbing with Prompto's excitement. Ignis traced that spot with his tongue, then his teeth.

“Iggy,” Prompto whined. “Iggy, that's so good.”

His voice penetrated the veil of lust that had settled over Ignis’ mind. He pulled back just enough to look down into Prompto's dilated eyes, taking in the wanting expression on his face.

“Tell me what you want,” Ignis said. He could scarcely believe that this was real, but Prompto had already surpassed every one of his fantasies.

“Take me to bed,” Prompto told him, like it was obvious, the only acceptable answer.

In the bedroom, they undressed one-another slowly. Prompto's hands shook as he plucked at Ignis’ shirt buttons, his zipper. He was either eager or nervous, maybe both. Ignis cupped his face as Prompto's hands slid over his bare chest, pushing back his shirt. He kissed Prompto's eyelids, his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose. The last made Prompto snort a laugh, eyes glowing, lips curved up.

“You're so cute,” he said, and Ignis flushed to his ears. Prompto seemed to find this utterly delightful. Hands on Ignis’ chest, he pushed, walking Ignis back to the bed, a gleam in his eye.

Ignis let himself fall onto the bed, lifted his hips for Prompto to drag off his trousers. The bulge in his underwear was obvious, throbbing with needful intensity. Prompto loomed over him, a vision in the dim lighting. Ignis ached for him in every way imaginable. 

“You're beautiful,” he said as Prompto leaned over him, one hand on either side of Ignis’ torso. Something passed over Prompto's face, a look that Ignis couldn't decipher. He leaned down and pressed his lips to Ignis’ chest, over his heart. 

“That’s my line,” he whispered against Ignis’ skin, his voice thick. Heat burned behind Ignis’ ribs, a fierce and deep affection that he’d never felt before. He wrapped his arms around Prompto, crushing the other man against his chest as Prompto squeaked in surprise. Ignis pressed his lips into Prompto’s hair, savoring the feel of skin against skin. 

“Hey,” Prompto said after a long moment, his voice a teasing protest. “Lemme go. I can’t do stuff to ya if you just hug me all night.” 

Laughing, Ignis released him and Prompto sat up. His blue-violet eyes held a tangible warmth which told Ignis this wasn’t just about sex. 

Lips teased down his throat and dotted his chest, leaving a fiery trail in their wake. Fingers ghosted along his ribs and the jut of his hip bones. He rested his hands on Prompto’s shoulders, smoothing his palms up the back of Prompto’s neck and into his sun-bright hair. Not guiding or encouraging, just enjoying the feel of him as he worked. 

Prompto nuzzled him through his briefs, withdrew him slowly as he shivered with pleasure. There was a mischievous little smile teasing at the corners of Prompto’s mouth as he flicked his tongue out, then as he took Ignis into his mouth. He was all wet heat, chapped lips stretched around Ignis’ flesh, his tongue like soft velvet burning down Ignis’ nerve-endings. 

The sight was riveting. Ignis couldn’t tear his gaze away. Prompto’s eyes had fluttered closed and he looked...blissful. Focused. Ignis pulled on him as the sensation surged, dragging Prompto up to kiss him, hand fisted in his hair to keep him in place. Prompto’s hand scrabbled between them as he ground his hips forward. He freed himself and Ignis gasped into his mouth as their flesh slid together. 

“Yes,” he breathed as Prompto wrapped his hand around them both. He latched his mouth onto the crook of Prompto’s neck, sucking hard as their cocks pulsed in time together. 

It didn’t surprise Ignis that he came first. The noise that wrung out of him when his orgasm hit did take him aback--he wasn’t normally very vocal, but Prompto did something to him. Or rather, Prompto  _ undid  _ him. Ignis watched Prompto sit up on his knees, stroking himself as he breathed hard and fast. His eyes were hot and dazed, focused on Ignis’ face. 

“Go on,” Ignis murmured. “Come for me, darling.” 

Prompto whimpered, and he came apart. Wet heat spotted Ignis’ chest and he sat up to catch Prompto as he curled in on himself, pressing kisses along a freckled shoulder. 

“I’ve got you,” he said as Prompto wrapped around him. “I’ve got you.”

 

X

 

They laid in bed, side by side. Ignis ran his knuckles slowly up and down the length of Prompto’s upper arm. There was a lazy smile on Prompto’s face, one of self-satisfaction. 

“I’m thirsty,” Prompto said softly. “But I don’t wanna get up.” 

“I’ll get you a glass of water,” Ignis told him.

“No,” Prompto said, reaching for his hand. “I don’t want you to get up either. I’ll just have to lie here ‘til I shrivel into dust.” 

“That’s rather lazy of you,” Ignis laughed.

Prompto gave a little half shrug, and kissed the hand he’d captured. “I’m too comfy. Your bed is really nice.”

“Oh? That’s all? You just like my bed?” Ignis asked him.

“Not just the bed. Having you here is pretty nice, too.”

“I’m flattered,” Ignis said, voice dry. 

Smirking, Prompto shuffled in closer to press their lips together. He kissed Ignis’ nose and his forehead too, tickling kisses that made Ignis’ heart leap. He freed his hand and brought it up to cup Prompto’s cheek, smoothing a thumb over the freckles there. Prompto’s eyes glinted up at him, but his expression slowly morphed into something worried. 

“What is it?” he asked as Ignis stared at him. Something of his feelings must have shown on his face. 

“I was just thinking,” Ignis said, “I think I’ve loved you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”

Prompto’s expression froze, eyes wide. 

“You...you,” he swallowed, hard, and then he tucked his face into Ignis’ neck, as if to hide. Ignis hugged him close. Finally he uttered in a soft squeak, “You love me?” 

“It seems that way,” Ignis said softly. Prompto didn’t move, other than to nuzzle his face even further into Ignis’ neck. “Prompto? Are you all right?”

“Yeah,” came the reply. His voice was taut with suppressed emotion. “It’s just...no one’s ever said that to me before. Nobody I’ve dated, I mean.”

Ignis felt an ache in his chest. It seemed wrong, cruel, that someone like Prompto had never been told that he was loved. That he had parents with so little regard for his feelings that they cancelled plans on him at a moment’s notice on a regular basis. All of his students adored him, even Noct and Gladiolus were fond of him. But the people he depended on always let him down.  _ Not any longer _ , Ignis vowed.

“Then I’ve a lot of catching up to do,” Ignis said. Prompto lifted his head, eyes damp as he haltingly met Ignis’ gaze. “I love you, Prompto Argentum. Very much so.”

Prompto made a strangled noise and hid his face again. Ignis heard him mumble something that might have been, “I love you, too.” 

Well, they had plenty of time to work out the details.

 

X

 

_ Three years later. _

 

Prompto’s thirtieth birthday was celebrated with a Halloween party. When he’d told Ignis that he wanted to do couple’s costumes, Ignis had agreed sight unseen. He had to admit, his boyfriend looked rather adorable dressed up in a fluffy chocobo chick costume. Ridiculous, but Prompto made it work. Three years together had proven that Prompto’s ideas  _ always  _ worked. 

Which was why Ignis had agreed to put on the magnet costume. 

_ “Chick magnet!” _ Prompto had crowed earlier that afternoon. He’d been so terribly excited about it, eyes shining as he held up the Halloween store packaging. Ignis hadn’t known what to expect, but he’d already said yes. There was no room left to argue by then. 

At least the costume wasn’t as cumbersome as he’d been fearing. The magnet was stiff fabric, malleable enough that he could carry trays of hors d'oeuvres from the kitchen to the living room, though he had to move through the door sideways. Gladio had laughed for ten straight minutes when he’d shown up, dressed as an undead college jock. Noctis was wearing a bathrobe over pajamas, which Ignis was fairly certain were his actual night clothes and not a real costume at all. 

Their apartment was packed with half-drunk college professors. Prompto was a spot of blazing yellow in the midst of them all. He’d thrown back the hood of his costume, exposing mussed hair, the empty eyes of the chocobo head hanging at a disturbing angle down his back. Working his way across their living room took several long minutes of greeting guests and offering them smoked salmon rillettes. 

“Iggy!” Prompto called when he finally got close. He was standing with Gladio and Noct, predictably, as well as Miss Fleuret and her stolid brother. Ravus hadn’t worn a costume, spoilsport that he was, but Luna was dressed as a resplendent mermaid. 

“Are you keeping our guests entertained, love?” Ignis asked as he leaned in to kiss his boyfriend. It was a tricky maneuver. Gladio helpfully took the half empty tray from his hand and immediately stuffed three of the rillettes into his mouth. 

“Oh, yeah,” Prompto said as they pulled apart. “I think everyone’s having fun. Can I open my presents, soon?”

Ignis scoffed, grinning. Prompto was beaming up at him, his delight obvious. He’d been bursting at the seams all week with impatience for this party, bouncing off the walls with the energy of a schoolboy. 

_ Most people are a tad bit more anxious about turning thirty, _ Ignis had remarked. 

_ I’m gonna have a kick-ass costume party with all of my friends. The people I love most. Why should I be anxious? _ Prompto had replied airily.

Needless to say, Ignis was suspicious. 

“Cake first, then presents,” Ignis told him sternly. He took hold of Prompto’s hand and began to lead him toward the kitchen. They were halfway across the room when Prompto tugged on his arm.

“Hey, wait a second,” he said. “I gotta ask you something.” 

Ignis turned just in time to watch Prompto sink down onto one knee. Time slowed down for a moment as his stomach somersaulted and his heart thundered in his ears. A crooked grin tugged Prompto’s mouth to one side, a nervous expression. 

“Prompto,” Ignis choked out. 

“Are you surprised?” Prompto asked him. 

Mouth open, Ignis stared for a moment before snapping his jaw shut and swallowing down the lump in his throat. “I had some notion,” he managed. 

Something softened in Prompto’s face, his smile turning warm and gentle. He looked utterly ludicrous, kneeling on one knee in a fluffy yellow costume, digging into his sleeve to retrieve a small velvet box. All around them the room had gone quiet. Someone had turned the music off and everyone was watching them. It was all so very... _ Prompto _ to do something like this, to propose on a day that was meant for him.  _ Surrounded by the people he loves. Of course.  _

“So,” Prompto said, opening the box. The ring inside was deceptively simple for all that it represented. “Ignis Scientia. Do you wanna spend the rest of your life dressing up in stupid costumes with me?”

There could only be one answer to that question. 

“More than anything, my love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading, babes.


End file.
